


The Work of a Mercenary

by Morroko



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, M/M, Mercenaries, emotional breakdown, light fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morroko/pseuds/Morroko
Summary: The job was very simple. Eliminate your target in less than a month, and payment will be given. It sounded so easy, and it was. For awhile.Gregory Abbington, resident prick and pretty boy, was conveniently given a matching target: Christophe DeLorne, who was conveniently sent to kill Gregory. Neither of them knew it, until the first and final encounter in a busted up hotel room.





	1. The Easiest Job in the World, More or Less

**Author's Note:**

> This entire fic was thrown together through mass editing of a discord roleplay, so it is a bit OOC and awkward at some parts. This also will be a bit short, as it was pre-written and, as stated before, taken off of discord.

 Christophe DeLorne. That was the name of the man he was looking for. Gregory had been hanging around where he'd been told to find him for about a week now, the man's photo enclosed in his wallet for him to check up on. He'd had the feeling of being watched many times that week, though he'd gone through precautions to disguise himself. He wore a dark wig, makeup used skillfully to make his face look uglier and colour contacts in place to hide his eyes. Though, despite his efforts, some things couldn't be changed. His sharp face shape and the beauty mark under his eye only two of them. He'd gotten the feeling of being watched again today, and decided to take a small risk. He let a bit of his disguise slip, enough so that any mercenary skilled enough would recognise him, before retreating back to his hotel for the night. He left the door open as well, which was nearly _too_ obvious, but he was going out on a limb here. Hoping to be attacked. As he sat down at the desk in the room with a cup of tea, he went over his notes from the past week. He had already concluded that who he was meant to be targeting was targeting him as well.

 Gregory Abbington. The name Christophe was given as his target. In his opinion, the name sounded like it was owned by a rich prick who wasn't worth his time, but a job's a job. Though he was quite skilled in his work, he made no effort to disguise himself as he sat in a hole he had dug himself, watching Gregory from afar. He was sure the blonde had noticed something off by now, but the only thing that bothered the mercenary was the god-awful disguise. That.. face of his, it couldn't be mistaken for anything else. That was the Gregory Abbington he was looking for. Even then, Christophe came to the conclusion that Gregory, too, was sent after him. Thus, explaining the poor disguise job. The Mole had followed his target into the hotel slowly, but made no move to go into his room. It was _too_ easy. He could tell Gregory was onto him. So, he simply stood a foot or two from the door, large shovel in hand. Gregory set down his pen and sighed, looking up at the mirror before him. He could have laughed at himself, honestly. The disguise was so poorly done he didn't even know why he was still wearing it, besides the fact that it went with his fake ID card. The Englishman stood, pushed in his chair, and grabbed for his gun. He looked it over for a moment, but then decided that it would be far too loud and went for the knife instead. He wasn't allowed his sword on the plane, and, though he preferred quieter methods such as poison, he knew it was far too late for that. After all, he could _feel_ that the other man was outside in the dimly lit hall. He decided he was going to let him know. Walking over, he pushed open the door, not stepping out of the room but letting it slowly swing open.

"I know you're out here," he commented, an odd kind of smile on his face, "Why not come in as so not to disturb the other residents?"

"Tch-" Christophe let out an odd sort of noise, now stepping infront of the door, shovel placed on his shoulder. "I don't have tea parties with targets." His face was.. a mix of pissed off and tired, though it was most likely the former. Although he had only one hand on the shovel, it was very clear he was perfectly ready to swing it, though he wasn't going to make the first move.

"Ah, so I was correct about making the assumption that you were targeting me as well." Gregory was just inside, leaning against the wall, the knife in his hands alarmingly large in terms of knives and just within hitting distance. He was still wearing the wig and makeup, though some of it had smeared a little around the lips, and despite the wig and clothing being purposefully poor his face was very well concealed. He looked genuinely ugly with his work, a stark contrast to what had probably been shown to Christophe. Unless they showed him an image of his disguise because they _knew,_ whoever had employed him.

"No point hiding that much. You would've figured it out eventually, correct?" Christophe, living up to his merc name, was covered in dirt, aside from around his eyes, which he consistently cleaned with his shirt. His hair was an absolute mess, most definitely matching what Gregory was given on him. Even then, his green eyes stood out because of all this, being the brightest colour on him.

"Of course I would have. It was only a matter of time." He knew Christophe was waiting for him to make a move, so he took a little step backwards to let him in so the door could shut. He really didn't feel like explaining blood in the hall, especially if another guest walked out on him with his knife buried half way into his target. Didn't want that to happen again.

"Of fucking course this had to happen- I don't get paid enough for this." The smaller mercenary stepped into the room, kicking the door closed as to not have his back to Gregory. He's smarter than that, at least. Christophe took note of the knife in his target's hand, charting out what moves could be made first, and how he could either dodge them, or knock them away.

 Smart. Not exposing his back. Gregory shifted his grip a little to hold the knife better, but suddenly drew back his opposite hand for a punch instead to catch his target off guard. He then took a stab with his knife, knowing damn well that Christophe wouldn't attack until he did and he wanted to get this whole thing over with. Christophe easily moved away from the punch, quickly moving his shovel infront of the knife to stop it from reaching him. It was about damn time, but he expected better from a mercenary with a douchebag name like his. The block prompted Gregory to grab the shovel with his free hand to limit the movements, and quickly the fight devolved into a rather evenly-matched brawl with much blood drawn on both sides. The fight did not end in his favour. After a rather hard blow to the head, he had found himself stumbling only to be knocked to the ground and have the shovel shoved up to his neck. He stared up at Christophe, faux-grey eyes wide, golden locks starting to escape from under the wig. "Wait-" He took in a deep breath, finding it rather hard to breathe with the shovel pressed against his airway but managed to get enough to be able to meet Christophe's eye for a moment. "Before you kill me I...I have a request."

"Tch- what is it." Christophe was now heaving, wiping a bit of blood from his face with his free hand. Jobs like this usually aren't so difficult, so he could appreciate the challenge, but sometimes the payment for this just isn't worth it. They were already so close, Christophe having used his body weight and muscle to pin Gregory's thinner frame down. Gregory had actually lost his knife before he went down, bloodied weapon having slid under one of the beds. A heavy stream of blood gushed from his forehead as well as various other cuts and bruises, but he used both hands to grab the shovel again around where Christophe's were to pull them down further and put them even closer.

"Kiss me?" he asked, shockingly quietly in comparison to his usual arrogant tone.

"Gh-- e-excuse me?" Christophe found himself so shocked by this request that he actually _stuttered._ That was new. Never before has a target actually.. asked something like that. But, to be fair, Gregory's face... as dumb as it was, was unfortunately kissable.

"You're very...ahm, attractive, to put it lightly." He'd noticed throughout the fight; Christophe looked _good._ He may be dirty, but that combined with the blood and adrenaline fueled something in Gregory. He'd been wanting to just grab him by the collar and kiss him since half way through. He even tilted his head back a little, baring his neck to show that he was serious. Christophe sat there for a moment, then throwing his shovel to the side and mumbling a 'fuck you' before placing his lips upon Gregory's. This is.. certainly something Christophe had never been asked to do before. The shovel being dropped to the side actually shocked Gregory a little; he'd been expecting Christophe to snap his neck as soon as he complied, _if_ he even did comply. And he did, which would have shocked him more if he hadn't melted into the kiss instantly, newly freed hands moving to grab Christophe by the shoulders. When he couldn't breathe, he pulled away, panting faintly to catch his breath and staring up at the Frenchman with pupils blown wide, like he'd seen something he _really_ liked. The smaller mercenary looked pissed off but... like it was fake. Like he wasn't super upset about it at all, and he was just trying to make it seem like he was. Christophe sat up, running his hand through his hair and messing it up more as he tried to think about what the _fuck_ just happened.

"Well, go on then." Gregory took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and barred the soft skin of his neck once more. He accepted his defeat. It was obvious he was waiting for Christophe to kill him. In no way did he _want_ to die, but he figured that it was inevitable now. Christophe picked up his shovel, but made no move to kill Gregory with it. Instead, he used it to stand himself up and walked over to the door.

"You should lay low for awhile. I will as well."

Incredibly confused, Gregory propped himself up on one elbow to look at Christophe, instantly biting the inside of his cheek at the pain that shot through his head. But he toughed it out as he always did in these situations.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked, good still a little quiet. He was a bit lightheaded at the moment. "Very well...meet me behind the patisserie in the town square at 1800 two days from now," he said even quieter, in case the room was bugged, "I need to talk about this whole situation with you."

"Understood." Was the only thing Christophe said as he walked out the door and through the hall, ignoring the odd looks from passerbys. Why he spared his target, he wasn't sure, but there was no room for going back now. That was...certainly an ordeal. Once his head stopped spinning, Gregory pulled himself off the floor and stumbled to the bathroom of the hotel room to patch up his wounds. As he went, he picked the knife up off the ground as well, setting it by the sink to be cleaned when it was done. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds, thinking about what the hell he'd done.


	2. Runaway Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan to escape is underway.

When the designated time came that he was going to meet Christophe, he'd already been waiting in the alleyway for about an hour. He'd neglected even trying to look like the man on his faux ID, as he saw no purpose to. It wasn't like he was going out anywhere. He'd also neglected to bring a weapon which, in hindsight, was idiotic, but he just wanted to talk. If Christophe intended to kill him, he would have that first night, right? He sighed, shaking his head and leaning against the brick wall out back of the patisserie.   
Christophe finally showed up, most of the blood cleaned up and his hair, for the most part, fixed.  
"I'm here. What do you want." Even when cleaned up, his green eyes stood out amongst everything else on him.

"Don't you think it's odd that we were both sent to target each other?" It was obvious that Gregory was trying not to look at him. His natural pale blue eyes were staring in the opposite direction out the alley, one hand continuously adjusting the button on the cuff of his white dress shirt in a type of idle habit.

"Of course. But what are we supposed to do about it?" They were very clearly talking about people who were completely willing to hire mercenaries to kill someone, so questioning the client's motives isn't necessarily a good idea.

"Do you think there is a possibility that the same employer may have hired us?" If Gregory's theory was true, that could mean one of two things; the employer was trying to find who would be more fit to take out a bigger target, or it was for some sick form of entertainment.

"...That may be possible, yes." Christophe never really thought about it like that, but now that he was.. it could end up really dangerous. (Or at least worse than his jobs dangerous)

"I know I shouldn't ask you this, as it is supposed to be confidential, but who employed you for this?" Gregory wanted to get to the bottom of this. He'd never actually wanted to be a hitman, necessarily, he preferred to do the detective work behind him. But it paid.

"I.. believe his name was... Eric. Eric Cartman." That name, too, sounded like it belonged to some rich prick who did these things only for the hell of it.

"You're sure?" At the name, the blond's brow furrowed, and he brought one gloved hand to his mouth as if thinking deeply. He still wasn't looking at Christophe, though. "It seems my intuition was correct."

"So, what does that mean for our.. situation, per se?" Christophe knew he sounded like that stupid goth kid who lived only a few blocks from him, but he only hoped that Gregory didn't know him.

"Well personally, I'd like to know what the hell he's getting to with all this." Gregory finally pushed himself up off the wall, turned to look at Christophe, opened hid mouth to say something, and then looked away again. "What his motive was."

"In my own personal opinion," Christophe leaned his side against the wall, still facing Gregory, "His name on it's own makes him sound like a douchebag, so maybe that's exactly why he did it."

"That's a valid point, but he may have had some ulterior motive. Someone else he wants to take out." Gregory always looked at both sides of the coin before coming to a conclusion. Just to be sure. He'd already made up his mind that he wasn't completing this job, however. That was beyond question by this point. He'd kissed the target, and quite honestly, was rather attracted to him and his stupid accent.

"That may be true. But, I believe it's safe to assume this person is.. a dumbass, to put it bluntly. It most likely wouldn't take much to get him off of us." Christophe had long ago decided the job wouldn't be finished, even if he was a little pissed at himself for it.  
God, how he hated Gregory and his stupid face-

"Yes, but then what would we do?" The tone was the slightest bit hopeful, like Gregory was asking for a little bit more than just going separate ways. Just the smallest bit. He didn't want to push it until he knew Christophe's view on it, but, well...he had kissed him back.

"Plenty of things. Though, this is a man willing to hire mercenaries. Our best option would be leaving, faking our deaths or some shit like that-" Christophe knew that they couldn't just leave then anyways. Eric would ask about the mission, and they'd need to respond eventually.

"We can fake our deaths, but then we would need to quit our jobs as well as to not risk him finding out," Gregory pointed out. He knew how to take a death, though. He wasn't known for his disguise work for nothing.

"Not forever, though. Just long enough for us to be forgotten by him." No way was Christophe going to permanently quit his job. It's all he's done since he was... at least 9. Gregory would actually welcome the chance to quit his job. He'd always wanted to do something better with his life than kill people. He was very into politics and the arts. Maybe he could go to college. He was only in his early twenties, after all. He had time.

"Yes, just long enough to get our faces off the hiring sites for as long as he's looking." Christophe guessed he could find something to do with that time. Maybe just dig holes around and finally make that secret tunnel system through the city like he wanted when he was 12.

"Then I see no issues. You know how to fake a death I take it?" Gregory asked, now thinking of what he could do to fill the time. Maybe open the florist shop he'd dreamed of as a child when his mum had taught him botany. It would be a fond hobby to remember her by, at least.

"Of course. This isn't the first time a client has pulled some sort of bullshit I had to get out of. Although, it was never with another person.."

"You can do it individually if you prefer. I...assume we'll be parting ways after this after all," Gregory added a little hesitantly, and took a small step away. He didn't want to, not yet. But this was an entirely new situation to him, and the most he could do to protect his feelings is assume that the attraction wasn't mutual until he caught some kind of sign.

"...I don't not kill people for no reason. You of all people should know that much." Christophe practically hit himself over the head for the comment, but didn't, and kept himself leaned against the wall.

"I was assuming that I had taken you off guard." At that, Gregory's gaze did flicker over to meet Christophe's for a moment. There it was. That was what he had needed. The Brit had to compose himself a little to not let that go straight to his head, but he stood up a little straighter and fixed his hair a bit so it looked the slightest bit nicer.

"Tch- please. It takes a lot to catch me off guard, this being no exception." Christophe looked Gregory in the eye for only a moment, and it was an immediate pang to the heart; the faint scowl on his face being proof enough.

"Well, if that's the case..." A gloved hand sneakily found its way inside of Christophe's, and his arm was pulled gently, tugging him a little towards Gregory. Just the slightest bit. "Should we maybe run away together?"   
Christophe couldn't look Gregory in the eye this time, his head facing down slightly.

"..It is our.. only option, yes-" He tried to play it off as the only thing they could do but we all know he's just fuckin' gay.

"Well then, we should get to work, shouldn't we?" Gregory didn't let go of Christophe's hand, instead nodding in the direction of where his hotel room was. He was wondering where they could go for these next few years. Maybe Belgium. It was close enough to their home countries (if he was assuming correctly from Christophe's accent) but not too obvious that they would be found. He'd always wanted to live in Belgium, it was quite a pleasant country.

"..Right-" Christophe didn't care where they went, just as long as they were together that time. Gregory was about to lead them out of the alleyway when suddenly he turned around, leaned forward and pressed a little kiss to the side of Christophe's lips. He didn't comment on it afterwards, just turning back around and pulling him out of the alley and down the crosshatched streets to where he had been staying to get to work. Christophe didn't say anything about it, only pressed his hand to his lips slightly before following behind Gregory with a small grumble.


End file.
